Gasping for Air
by UnluckyAmulet
Summary: Meredith Jones is satisfied with the monotony of her life. That's what she tells herself. But when her new job results in Meredith being catapulted into a dangerous, chaotic power struggle, it looks like she's left "normal" life well and truly behind. OC.
1. Red and Black

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the Batman Franchise. I do own Meredith Jones and worship the Nolan films, though. (Heath! Christian! You guys are so amazing!)

Yeah, yeah, I know, ANOTHER OC fic in the Batman Begins/Dark Knight category, but I couldn't help myself. I never can. Rated T for darkness in the future, some language and possible sexual-in-content stuff. Final pairings and so are aren't concrete yet. (Also, just as a note: At this point, although the story is Post TDK, Meredith doesn't fully know about the Joker. She wasn't in Gotham during the worst attacks. This'll be corrected later, though.)

Enjoy!

* * *

"Welcome to Wayne Enterprises, how may I help you? ...Please hold!"

No matter how many times she heard the chipper phone-greeting over the course of the day, the irritatingly chirpy twitter always managed to cause her to twitch, like she was trying to dislodge a fly.

Meredith Jones blew a strand of hair out of her face as she continued to flip listlessly through the stack of papers sitting in front of her. She glanced hopefully at the clock perched on a nearby wall, only to see that clocking-out time was still a depressing forty-five minutes away. Meredith had been in such as rush that morning; she had forgotten not only breakfast, but her routine cup of coffee. Her brain felt like it had shrunk in the wash, or something.

"Welcome to Wayne Enterprises, how-"

Meredith twitched again as the high-pitched voice jolted her out of her reverie. She grit her teeth in an effort not to swear or mutter something savage under her breath.

"Looks like _somebody_ missed out on their usual caffeine hit again."

Meredith glanced up to see a small, curvy blonde woman, who had perched herself on the edge of Meredith's desk. Meredith managed a wan smile.

"How could you tell?" she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Just that you look like you'd like to decapitate Chantal every time she answers the phone." replied Carrie, cheerfully. "And the fact you keep blinking extra hard at random intervals like you're trying to convince yourself that, yes, you _are_ awake and supposed to be doing work."

"Okay, okay." Meredith said, finally managing a genuine giggle. "You win. Yeah, Floyd stole the batteries in my alarm clock, so GUESS who had to run to get a taxi to work this morning?"

"You? Run?"

"Thanks, Carrie." Meredith snorted. Carrie's hazel eyes drifted to the huge stack of papers on Meredith's desk.

"Listen, I'll take these off your hands. Go and try and wake yourself up, okay? And can you get me a coffee?"

Meredith didn't bother protesting- Carrie was already halfway across the corridor. Besides, she had a point.

With a weary air, Meredith drifted down the hall until she got to the bathroom, slipping inside as the elevator doors nearby pinged open. Thankfully, it was empty in there.

Meredith turned on the tap and glanced at herself in the mirror, before pulling a face and leaning forwards. Her hair, which until a few weeks ago was Candy Apple Red (according to the box, anyway) was now fading back to her natural colour. Meredith dipped her head forwards, inspecting her dark brown roots. Although she had slept the usual amount last night, she could still detect faint shadows beneath her eyes, which were a deep, dark blue and admittedly still a little bleary due to the absence of her morning caffeine. Meredith also noticed that she had forgotten to rub off yesterday's eyeliner, again.

Sighing, she splashed her face with water and headed back outside, her shoes sinking into the plush carpets next to the elevators.

"Meredith! There you are."

Meredith looked around to see Reese walking towards her, grinning.

"Hey." she greeted him, thinking that this probably had something to do with work.

Reese sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. At twenty-six, Reese Jones was one of the most talked-about executives in Wayne Enterprises, and indeed probably one of the most talked about males, not counting Bruce Wayne himself, obviously. He was also Meredith's older brother, which proved to be both a hindrance as well as a help in her work life. Upon Meredith's return to Gotham, she had mentioned in passing to Reese about work, and next thing she knew, she suddenly had a job at Wayne Enterprises. Nothing really impressive- she basically was just another admin worker. She fetched coffee, filed paperwork and answered phones. That was fine. The problem was, the minute people- namely, girls- found out she was related to _the_ Reese Jones, she was immediately subjected to an Older Brother Pop Quiz.

Meredith then realised with a jolt that Reese was talking.

"- Especially since you've been working here for, how long now?"

"Two weeks." replied Meredith, stifling a yawn. "But Mr. Wayne is a busy guy, Reese; he's hardly got time to meet every single person who works here. I thought you were doing some kind of company stuff with him. Didn't you say he's always falling asleep at work?"

"Well, yeah." said Reese, with a laugh that showed his white teeth. "But I'm surprised you haven't even _seen_ him yet. He pretty much runs Gotham, after all."

"I know that." replied Meredith, sounding more irritable then she intended, but Reese paid it no attention. "Well, it'll happen sooner or later, I guess."

She kind of shrugged at Reese and turned to go.

"Meredith?"

"What?"

"I think you need to dye your hair again. It's looking a little...faded."

"Get back to work, Reese." answered Meredith, without turning around. She heard him laugh, and then head inside the elevator.

* * *

Meredith pushed open the door to her left, just as a tall girl with a cloud of honey-blonde hair passed through. She was holding a phone in one hand and a shiny pink folder in the other one. Meredith couldn't help noticing she had co-ordinated her nail polish, lipstick and shoes in the same shade of hot pink and had to fight not to wrinkle her nose. Andrea glanced coolly at Meredith, eyebrows slightly raised.

"Was that your brother?" inquired Andrea, glancing at the elevator. Meredith didn't like her expression.

"It was." she agreed carefully. "Why?"

"Oh, somebody called for him, is all." Andrea replied, still looking at the elevator and smiling before glancing back at Meredith. "He's such a high-flier, isn't he? It's hard to believe the two of you are related!"

Meredith grunted as Andrea sailed past. Andrea was one of those women that seemed to think that she was doing the world a service by mincing around like everywhere was a catwalk. Admittedly, yes, she was very pretty, but she also knew it and she also knew how to exploit that fact. The fact that Andrea liked to deliver sugar-coated insults to Meredith and some of the other girls only increased her dislike of her. Meredith wondered if anybody else had noticed that this was a recurring theme of a lot of female employees at Wayne Enterprises, with the majority being under thirty and attractive.

Daydreaming about Andrea experiencing an unfortunate fall down the stairs, thanks to her ridiculous heels, Meredith smiled a little to herself as she located the espresso machine. That was definitely one of the pluses for working for a billionaire- he seemed to know how to keep his employees happy and how to make the place look classy. Even the lobby had a fountain.

"Hey, Carrie!" Meredith called as she spotted Carrie chatting to Chantal, who seemed to have found somebody else to take over the phone. "Here's your coff-!"

But just as Meredith extended her arm, coffee held in her hand, the door swung open, and the result was that Meredith got a chestful of still-warm coffee, which did a pretty good job of soaking through her top.

Several things then happened simultaneously.

The first thing that happened was Reese burst out laughing, loudly. The second was Meredith's face turning almost white from shock and she desperately tried to repair the damage to her shirt, which was followed almost immediately by the third thing, which was Bruce Wayne profusely apologising and trying not to blatantly stare as the "Wet T-Shirt Effect" began to kick in. Meredith prayed to burst into flames right there- she had just been given a coffee shower by the Prince of Gotham, with several rather mildly surprised CEO's and her brother, who would probably NEVER let her live it down.

_Dear God, please take me now. I'm begging._

Eventually, Carrie unexpectedly took control of the situation and pushed Meredith out of the corridor, practically marching her into the bathroom, leaving behind one thoroughly amused older sibling and a rather apologetic boss.

Meredith examined her collarbone, wondering if the coffee had been actually hot enough to burn her skin. She gratefully took some damp paper towels from Carrie, and began mopping at her chest.

"Great. I just spilt coffee all over myself in front of my new boss. Whee." Meredith intoned, rolling her eyes and tugging at her collar.

"Don't be silly." Carrie said, shaking her head.

"I'm not being silly, I'm serious. He probably thinks I'm retarded."

"It was really more his fault then yours." Carrie told Meredith soothingly. Then, she suddenly giggled, her bubbly personality naturally seeing the funny side of the situation. "But I guess that's one way to make an impression! He'll definitely remember you now!"

"Oh god."

"Come on." Carrie said, choosing to ignore the aforementioned moan and tugging Meredith along. "Just zip your jacket up and nobody will even notice the stain."

"Yeah, and nobody will notice that I have my jacket done up despite it being boiling hot upstairs. Though people might stare when they see the first-degree burn I have all over my cleavage tomorrow."

"Can you get burns from liquid?" pondered Carrie, as the two exited the bathroom. Meredith glanced at her watch.

"Knowing my luck, probably. Anyway, since I've been thoroughly humiliated enough today, I'd better get going. Don't wanna be late."

"Where are you going?" Chantal asked, who had come outside, blinking in puzzlement. Meredith glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm going to work!"

* * *

Meredith had been advised (or rather, _told_) by her brother that she might as well quit her unimpressive job as a waitress after her first day at Wayne Enterprises. And in truth, Meredith had considered it a little before resolutely deciding that she wouldn't. It wasn't just that she had friends at her job, or that she rather liked the idea of earning two salaries, but there was a large part of her that subconsciously was unconvinced that she really deserved or wanted to work at Wayne Enterprises in the first place. She had taken the job because that kind of money was hard to pass up and Reese had gotten it as a special favour, but she didn't want to rely on whatever her brother was doing to keep her employed.

"Meredith! Hurry up and give this to table four!"

...Although sometimes, quitting was REALLY tempting.

Meredith massaged her temples, feeling a headache coming on, but snatched the slice of pumpkin pie from the counter and blundered off, stifling a yawn. She plunked the food inelegantly down in front of the opulently fat man that sat there, but he was so eager to shove yet another morsel down his throat that he paid her no attention whatsoever.

"Somebody ELSE better wipe down that table." Meredith announced sourly to Corrine, a pretty Asian-American girl who was the same age as Meredith. "I've brought food to Mr. Neverending Pit over there at least three freaking times."

"Relax, I think Danae is getting the bill." replied Corrine soothingly. "Only a little longer to go, then we can go home."

Meredith merely grunted in assent. It was late, quite a few of the waiters and waitresses had gone home already, but Meredith had at least another hour to go before home time. She didn't know what was even compelling her to stay at all- it was rare for somebody to want coffee/muffins at 8:00pm in the evening. There really weren't many people left, although Meredith suspected that the fat man made any room he was in look crowded.

"Meredith, go serve table thirteen." one of the chefs barked from the kitchen.

"Why do I have to do it?" she whined, aching for something to wake her up. Or a large bottle of something alcoholic.

"Just go!"

With a dramatic sigh, Meredith rose to her feet and slipped out from the back room, pushing the rubber flaps that dangled over the doorway out of her face. There was a silhouette of a man (she assumed it was a man from his noticeably broad shoulders) leaning against the window, half in shadow thanks to the neon red sign above the windows of the Diner. Meredith paid little attention to this, floating over to the figure and flipping over her tiny notebook.

"Welcome to Joe's." Meredith began vaguely, having repeated this phrase over and over again. "What can I get you?"

The man took a moment to reply, as Meredith hovered next to the table, wishing the dull ache that had bloomed in her head would _go away._

"Coffee." decided the customer, after a pause. "And...Hmmm...what do YOU like?"

"Oh, um, well -" Meredith began, and then suddenly stopped.

Scars.

Meredith, who had glanced absently up to answer the customer, found that the glance lasted longer then she had anticipated.

Scars ran in a gruesome smile up both of the man's cheeks, looking particularly raw and pink against his skin, which was a sort of milky-coffee colour. Tendrils of what Meredith could only assume was blondish hair escaped from underneath the black hat he was wearing, though it was hard to tell in the reddish light he was bathed in. Even with the scars, there was something oddly alluring about the man, though the scars, of course, were the first thing you noticed.

The man sitting in front of her watched her with half-lidded, nearly black eyes, as though he was internally gauging her reaction, or simply waiting for her to speak. Meredith felt her face turn hot, and she hoped she hadn't been gawking.

"…Cherry." Meredith found herself saying, before she had even begun to fully register her mouth moving. "You, um, can't go wrong with cherry pie."

"Well, who can ARGUE with that?" replied the scarred man, and he smiled, although the calculating look lingered in his eyes. Meredith began to feel very much like she was being cross-examined.

"I'll be right back…" mumbled Meredith, feeling really quite embarrassed now.

She wondered back to the kitchen, feeling oddly short of breath, flicking on the kettle distractedly. It wasn't every day a customer got her so worked up by merely saying a few well-worded sentences. Most of the time, Meredith felt like she was just kind of drifting along, performing her work as if she were on auto-pilot. After all, it wasn't exactly riveting stuff. Take order, fetch food, take away food. It wasn't exactly rocket science.

But this time, she found herself so flustered that she nearly poured boiling water over herself, and was quite relieved when the strange man accepted his order with no further comment. Meredith retreated back into the back room, watching him for a moment from behind the rubber flaps, before turning away and busying herself with stealing a chocolate muffin from the kitchen without anybody noticing.

She had just finished licking stray chocolate off her fingers, perched on the back legs of her chair when Corrine suddenly appeared out of nowhere, looking rather excited.

"What is it?" Meredith asked, as Corrine looked as though she was absolutely _dying_ to tell her something.

"Meredith, I just went over to the table where that guy you were serving was. He's gone, but he just tipped you, like, twenty bucks!"

"What?" said Meredith, nearly toppling over backwards.

She got up and nearly ran to her booth. Sure enough, like Corinne had said, he was gone, but there was a stash of money sitting on the table. Meredith flipped through it, thinking that her friend must have been wrong- this was for the meal, surely?

But no. Flipping through the cash, Meredith saw that the majority of it was, in fact, for her. After all, coffee and a slice of pie weren't particularly expensive. Meredith glanced around, feeling suddenly as though she was doing something she shouldn't have done. But...well, all she did was do her job. It's not like he just accidentally put a twenty down, was it?

"Well." Meredith said blankly, trying not to sound too pleased with herself, even though her mind already irresistibly flipping through the litany of items she could get with a little extra cash. "Guess that's that, then."

Twenty-five minutes later, Meredith sighed as the cold air seemed to rush towards her as she stepped onto the glimmering pavement outside Joe's Diner. She fumbled through her purse, making sure she had all of her stuff- it wouldn't be wise to suddenly stop halfway home and realise she'd left her keys or something at work. It was hazardous enough as it was, getting back to her apartment at nine in the evening.

As she shifted through her purse, something fluttered to the ground by her feet. Puzzled, she crouched down and picked it up, thinking it was an errant note.

Flipping the thing over, however, Meredith's confusion deepened as she realised what it was- a playing card. Not just any card, but the Joker card.

_What the hell?_ Meredith thought, turning the card over. It really did seem to have just fallen innocently out of her bag. After moment's contemplation, she shrugged and stuffed it into her bag, nestling it next to the twenty.

She then saw the bus moving down the street and swore, setting off at an almost-run, and the card, for the meantime, was forgotten.

* * *

"Last stop."

Meredith jerked awake. She blinked, confused. She had staggered onto the bus just in time to catch it, and then promptly flopped down in a seat near the back, resting her head on the window, which was now white with condensation.

"Huh?"

"This is the last stop." the bus driver informed her, indifferent of her bewilderment. "Time to get off the bus, lady."

"But this isn't my stop!" protested Meredith. The bus driver snorted.

"Do I look like I care? What do you want me to do, turn the bus around and go all the way back? It's your choice, honey, either get off the bus or sleep in it."

Meredith's mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a second, and then she snapped it shut and made her way to the doors, being sure to glare at the smug expression of the bus driver her entire way down the aisle.

"Thanks a LOT." she told him as the doors slid shut.

Her only answer as a hiss as the bus pulled away, and she had to jump back to prevent her feet from being soaked. Sighing loudly as the first droplets of thin, melancholy rain speckled across her cheeks and shoulders, Meredith huddled further into her trench coat, and, seeing no other alternative, started walking.

She had no idea where the nearest cab firm was. The streets were surprisingly quiet- Meredith hoped that it would stay that way until she got home, but she wasn't about to put too much faith into that. Her footsteps sounded loud to her, as she skittered over various puddles, her pale face growing pinker in the cold night air. It smelled the way it did just before it was about to rain- wet, feral. Normally she found the scent comforting, but right now she just wished that she hadn't fallen asleep on the damn bus in the first place. To distract herself, Meredith cast her mind around and found herself thinking back to the strange man in the diner, and what on earth she could have possibly done to get him to leave her twenty dollars and, bizarrely, a joker card.

Then, she heard it.

A low whistle, somewhere behind her. Meredith chewed on her lip, making sure to keep walking as though she hadn't heard anything. No doubt it was probably just a run-of-the-mill thug who had nothing better to do then try and intimidate anything that moved, but that wasn't to say it wasn't working. The fact he resembled a bald gorilla in a leather jacket was probably a contributing factor. She carried on walking, but the urge to break into a run was mounting.

"Hey."

_Don't run_. Meredith reminded herself, even though she could hear more than one set of footsteps now, languidly heading in her direction. _Don't run, because they will chase you. And they WILL catch you, because let's face it; you're ridiculously out of shape. That's what you get when you spend most of your time sleeping, spacing out or drinking caffeine-based beverages._That was around the time Meredith noticed that she had been so preoccupied in lamenting her physical health and eating habits, she had walked straight into a dead end. Two more men had joined their ape-like leader as Meredith had blindly walked along. They obviously knew the area well, much better than she did, anyway.

"Fuck." was all Meredith managed to come up with to surmise her situation, when she felt a hand yank roughly at her elbow. Meredith gasped reflexively and spun around, and a harsh voice delivered the command near the vicinity of her ear.

"Hand over all your cash. Now."

_Goddamn, the one day I get tipped more than my weekly pay check and it gets fricking stolen! _Meredith thought, irrationally, a sort of faint ringing in her ears.

"Hey!"

Meredith jumped. She had forgotten what she was doing.

"Are you fucking stupid or something?" barked one of the thugs, who was skinny with a blonde ponytail.

"Stupid is as stupid does." replied Meredith, without thinking.

Without warning, she felt herself being slammed into the wall behind her, a hand gripping her shoulder as whoever it was pushed. Meredith grunted with the sudden bolt of pain that ran up and down her back, and with the effort of not squealing and/or crying out loud.

"What the fuck did you call me?" shouted the bald guy- or it might have been the third one, Meredith was rapidly losing track, but she tried in vain to defend herself.

"N-no, I didn't mean-!"

Meredith thrashed ungracefully, trying to wriggle out of his grip, and without meaning to, her knee suddenly shot upwards, and catching Thug One right in the groin. He staggered backwards, his hands instinctively clenching at his crotch. It looked so funny that Meredith might have giggled if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"You little bitch!"

Meredith couldn't help it- she squealed as the man shot upright again, and she instinctively raised her arms to cover her face, although she was painfully aware that she knew next to nothing about fighting and only very basic self-defence. She was royally screwed, now that she had accidentally jammed her knee into their leader's balls. Meredith waited for the inevitable burst of pain and probable torrent of abuse.

Nothing happened.

When Meredith opened her eyes a fraction, something streaked past her face so quickly she wasn't sure what had happened at first, causing her reddish hair to whip back from her face. However, when the nearest thug suddenly went flying backwards, Meredith took the opportunity to get her ass out of the way, figuring that whatever was going on, it would be better not to get caught up in the middle of it. Staggering towards the mouth of the alley, she pressed against the wall and looked to her right.

What she saw was a black tower of a man, who was currently holding up the bald guy by his lapels as though he weighed nothing. Even though Meredith hadn't been back in Gotham for all that long, there was still no mistaking that mask, or the body armour that he wore. She had seen enough footage on TV and pictures in the papers. The black caped billowed out from the figure theatrically, making him look, if possible, even bigger and more intimidating then he already did, which was of course the intention. The next second, he slammed the gasping man against the wall and roughly let go. The bald thug slid to the ground, out cold. Then the figure, illuminated only by the murky yellow of the streetlight, turned his attention to her. Meredith found her voice, although it only came out as one whisper.

"It's you."

Batman.

* * *

If you have time, drop me a review. :)

Thanks for reading!


	2. Trick of the moonlight

Hello, everybody! I've finally finished with chapter two! I want to say thank you to all of you who reviewed the first chapter, I very much appreciate all your kind words and encouragement! It makes me all happy and stuff! :) (I found it funny the last chapter was 4,444 words, for some reason. XD)

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Meredith didn't move. She _couldn't_- her legs seemed to have voted against taking orders from her brain. The Batman moved towards her, and despite the fact he had basically just saved her life and/or wallet, she still couldn't shake off the primal urge to run at the back of her mind. She wondered what exactly he wanted. Maybe he was going to tell her she was an idiot for just wondering blindly into dark alleyways in the first place. She supposed that it wouldn't exactly be an unfair criticism. She felt a shiver coarse through her as he held her gaze.

"Are you hurt?"

The words did not match up to the voice at all. It was a demonic rasp of a voice, although he sounded fairly calm.

"I'm fine!" Meredith replied, breathlessly, a mild wave of hysteria overtaking her. "Absolutely!"

It seemed a completely ridiculous thing to say, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty, they say. And Meredith had, after all, fallen asleep on the bus, almost mugged and/or stabbed and then rescued by possibly the most notorious "hero" in Gotham city, so she felt that a little stupidity was forgivable, in the circumstances. Annoyingly, she realized that she literally could _not_ stop staring at him.

He kind of grunted in assent, and then glanced back at the unconscious men. Meredith watched him, swaying slightly on the spot. She felt distinctly light-headed and a little dizzy. She hoped that she wasn't going to faint or something. That would really be embarrassing.

Meredith suddenly realized that Batman was busy attaching something to the wrist of each of the men he had been attacking. Meredith squinted, trying to make out what he was doing, but in the gloom it was difficult. He did whatever he was doing very quickly- all she could maker out was a flash of silver before he moved on to the next one. She squinted, trying to make them out. Handcuffs?

She slumped slightly against the building behind her, her knees crumpling unexpectedly. She hadn't been entirely truthful about being hurt- the bruises on her shoulders were small but painful, but it was really more the shock that was getting to her more than anything. Meredith felt a little disconnected from her surroundings, as though she was watching it from a distance. The cold bit into her legs, but she hardly noticed it.

He didn't ask _why_ she had suddenly lost the ability to stand up; he just strode back over to her, cape billowing behind him.

_I guess he must rescue people from getting mugged a lot. He's probably used to it. _Meredith found herself thinking.

"Call a taxi. You can't walk home in that condition." Batman ordered, tossing something to Meredith, which she caught automatically. Her phone. She must have dropped it in the alleyway.

"Oh..." Meredith breathed, fumbling with it as she flipped it open, her hands shaking. She looked up, remembering something, and pointed across the alleyway. "What about them?"

"Cops will pick them up." replied Batman, before turning and walking away.

"Um...thank you!" Meredith called after him.

Batman turned his head very slightly in her direction, presumably to indicate he had heard her, before pulling what looked like a gun out of his pocket and pointing it at the edge of the building. The next moment, he disappeared, almost melting into the darkness.

And despite everything that had happened to her that day, Meredith smiled.

* * *

The city of Gotham was a majestic view at night.

It was even more so when you weren't watching it from behind iron bars.

The Joker was staring up at the moon, an almost-full orb in the sky, seemingly burning in its blank canvas. It seemed to exude a silvery, alluring power that particular night, and the Joker was appreciating it in its fullest. In that moment, he felt...powerful. Liberated. As though the moon was shining like that especially for him.

Who knows? Perhaps it was.

Eyes like coals flickered to the streets below him. Two men were running down a nearby alley, their feet splashing loudly against the gleaming wet pavement. A police siren wailed into the distance, a typical sound for a city like Gotham. An ambulance accompanied it, almost like a duet of panic as the vehicles raced to amend whatever damage had been done. The city glittered, neon lights flashing, a momentary distraction from the grit and grime of the city. Despite the lights, you could still make out the stars up ahead, all the more beautiful in the unusual coldness of the night.

The Joker was lazily caressing a knife with his fingers, doing it with such a practiced ease that the blade simply slipped in and out between his hands, the blade harmless. He was thinking about how things had changed in Gotham. Or, specifically, how one person had changed things.

He had seen the papers. And oh, how it had amused him to read the new attitude people had taken towards their ex-favorite Caped Crusader.

The Joker smiled wryly. (Although, it was sometimes hard to tell when he _wasn't_ smiling.) How typical of the self-righteous Batman, taking the fall for Dent after the latter's rampage, all in the name of protecting Gotham's "hope". How _noble_ it all was. How self-sacrificing to have turned the dogs on himself, both literally and figuratively.

How amusing it would be, when Gotham figured out who the culprit _really_ was. Anybody less then Batman could have just let the Joker take the fall- that would have answered any awkward questions nicely, even if everyone knew he liked knives over guns. But no. No, no, no. That wouldn't do at all, letting somebody else take the fall for something they didn't do, even a man like himself. But that was the Batman for you- he was possessive like that, always had to take matters into his own hands. It was one of the things that made him just so much _fun_.

It was simply a fact of life. Society needed scapegoats, and the Batman fulfilled that role. Really, the Joker could not have expected anything less.

The Joker pursed his painted lips in thought as he contemplated all the new ways he could find to play with Gotham. The opportunities were positively endless.

There was of course the small matter of taking control of more mob syndicates- that was the problem with mobsters; No matter how many of them you killed, more always seemed to rush in and take their place. They were like ants, scuttling about the city. But the Joker was unconcerned with that. There was no rush, after all. It wasn't like he hadn't managed it before, and that was when nobody had a clue just _who_ they were messing with. Why, it would be a positive cakewalk a second time! He would have plenty of time to spread his cards out on the deck, so to speak. At the moment, he was preoccupied with all the potential new toys lying around, waiting for him.

The Joker's eyes became half-lidded as he allowed his mind to flit back to no more than twenty-four hours previously when he had made his escape. He had felt a certain rush of nostalgia when he easily dispatched the guards- shame, really, one of them was quite a cute little thing. Blonde. - to when he had stopped off for a late-night snack.

The girl who had served him had amused him. It wasn't just her vague, not-on-this-planet vibe she gave off, or how easy it had been to get her flustered. What had gotten to him the most was her reaction to his scars. Or rather, her lack of reaction.

People were drawn to the scars- couldn't help it. Humans were naturally curious creatures. When he was dressed up in his "normal" costume, sometimes people would ask him straight-out: _How did you get those scars?_He had seen her looking at them, but he had been more interested in the fact that she didn't seem horrified because of the scars at all. If anything, she seemed more embarrassed about their conversation than anything else. Surely, the people of Gotham would by now at least be a little worried about anybody with _those_ scars, even though he knew nobody knew yet about his escape. But this girl looked as if she had no idea who he was. Or who he_ could_ be.

Luckily for him, he had made a point of remembering her nametag.

_Meredith._

He didn't know who she was.

But he intended to find out.

* * *

Meredith walked slowly up to Carrie's desk. The blonde was completely oblivious to her arrival- she was talking rapidly to Chantal, apparently detailing a disastrous blind date she had been on the night before. Reaching the other woman's desk, Meredith coughed, pointedly.

"And of course, he was ju- OH MY GOD!" Carrie squealed, when she glanced over her shoulder and took in her friend.

Meredith smiled.

Since her harrowing adventure last night, Meredith had suddenly received a message from Floyd, her flat mate, pointing out that they had run out of bleach, washing powder and various other household cleaning products. Because Floyd barely ever left the flat, he often noticed when they ran out of food or cleaning things, since Meredith had told Floyd flat-out that she wasn't about to work two jobs, cook AND clean while Floyd stayed at home and smoked weed all day.

When Meredith had rather exasperatedly taken a detour to a convenience store, she had suddenly noticed a box of hair dye, and all she could think of was how her last dye job was at least two months ago, and how she was suddenly rather bored of her hair being Faded Lipstick Color.

Meredith smiled, somewhat shyly as Carrie and Chantal squealed over her newly-brunette hair. Meredith had to admit that she had been pleased when she had finally looked in the mirror to see her new dark-haired self looking back at her. It was very dark; on the box it was called something like Ice Mocha.

Meredith's ears then picked up (over the constant babble going back and forth between the two blondes) the distinctive sound of high-heels clicking across the floor. Andrea was, as usual, swaying down the hallway, carrying a number of files and causing most of the males in the vicinity to scrape their jaws off the floor. Meredith yawned rather pointedly. Carrie held up a folder up to her nose in order to stifle her smile.

"I like your hair, Meredith." Andrea said, sweetly. "I don't think that you had the skin tone to pull off red."

"Wow, Andrea, coming from you, that was almost diplomatic!" replied Meredith, equally as sweet. Andrea made a face and walked away, swaying her hips as she went.

Meredith pulled a face, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a jerk of her head.

"God, she's annoying." she muttered.

"I know." Carrie said sympathetically.

"I don't get it. She never has a go at me." Chantal commented. She shook her head, platinum-blonde hair bouncing.

Meredith could tell she was chewing gum, which was frowned upon if you spent most of your mornings manning the phones. She smiled to herself, and then realized that Carrie and Chantal had already moved along in the conversation.

"-The police don't know where he's gone, either. No leads at all."

"It gives me the creeps just thinking about it." Chantal said, shivering dramatically.

"Huh?" Meredith broke in. The two blondes glanced at her.

"You mean you haven't heard?" Chantal asked, eyes wide.

"Evidently, no." Meredith answered, with raised eyebrows.

"Honestly, Meredith, Gotham has been thrown into a panic since yesterday because a mass-murdering criminal escaped Arkham Asylum, and you had no idea up until _now_?" Carrie asked, with a small giggle at the end of her sentence.

Meredith tried not to feel annoyed by this, since Carrie hadn't meant it to be bitchy, but she still failed to laugh back anyway.

"Well?" she said, a little impatiently.

Carrie handed over the newspaper on the desk to Meredith. On the cover there was a slightly blurry picture of a man in profile. It surprised her to see it was a colour picture. The man's face was white as a geisha's, the scarlet lips drawn up in a huge smile up the side of his face, though it was hard to see much else at it looked like the photo had been taken of him while he was mid-turn. He was cut off at the waist, but Meredith could see he was wearing a purple coat, which seemed to be blowing in the wind as he swerved away from the camera.

Frowning, she began to read;

_MADMAN ESCAPE!_

_Police were appalled to discover that the mass-murdering terrorist known to the public as simply 'The Joker' has escaped from his cell of Arkham Asylum, and that the Joker has already killed two people within what seems to be minutes of his escape. Asylum wardens Leigh Walker and Mack Castromi were both found dead outside the Joker's cell, with multiple stab-wounds and lacerations on the throat._

_So far, there have been no sightings of the Joker; however his capture has been given the highest priority by police. The public are hereby warned- the Joker is incredibly armed and dangerous. DO NOT APPROACH THIS MAN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. If you see anything suspicious, call the police immediately._

The article went on, detailing the entire night and the length so far of the Joker's escape, but Meredith suddenly didn't feel like reading any more. She put the paper down just as Brian, another employee at Wayne Enterprises who looked more like a catalogue model than anything else, appeared around the corner with a Styrofoam cup of coffee. He glanced at Meredith, who was in the midst of doing nothing at all.

"Oh, hey, Meredith, go take this to Mr. Wayne, will you?" Brian said, pushing it into her hands.

"Why do I have to act like a waitress at _both_ my jobs?" Meredith complained.

Brian raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, because you're positively swamped with work at the moment. Go!"

Meredith rolled her eyes dramatically before taking the coffee and gliding away, wondering idly whether everyone around here was like, addicted to it or something.

* * *

Reaching Mr. Wayne's office, she knocked on the door, only to be greeted by the unnerving silence.

Pushing the door open, Meredith noticed (rather incredulously) that he was asleep.

"Mr. Wayne?" Meredith asked, rather more quietly then she intended. There was no response from the catatonic man on the couch.

Meredith hovered uncertainly in the doorway, still clutching the Styrofoam cup with slightly nibbled fingernails, but she eventually ventured inside. Bruce Wayne's office had to be one of the most luxurious rooms in the whole building, and that was saying something. And right in the centre of it was a luxurious green couch, currently the resting place for none other than the Prince of Gotham himself. He was snoring slightly.

"Mr. Wayne?" Meredith tried again, now standing beside the couch, leaning over it slightly to peer at her boss. She noticed that Bruce Wayne had rather large circles beneath his eyes and felt a strange twang of sympathy.

Still no response from the Prince of Gotham. Meredith was tempted to leave, but she felt silly for being so nervous. She was a grown woman, after all. Surely she couldn't get fired just for waking him up? Her boss wasn't a tyrant.

With this thought in mind, she stretched a hand forward, the tips of her fingers just brushing the lapel of Bruce Wayne's jacket.

Instantly, she felt a hand close rapidly around her wrist, and Bruce got into a sitting position with disconcerting speed for somebody who seemed very much out of it a minute ago. Meredith stared at him, a little startled, her grip on the coffee tightening, her nails sinking into the pliable surface of the Styrofoam. Although Bruce wasn't squeezing her wrist hard enough for it to actually hurt, he had a very secure grip.

"I...brought you some coffee?" Meredith said, holding it out to him the way you might offer a particularly unpredictable dog a bone.

Bruce grinned apologetically and took it, letting go of her wrist as quickly as he had grabbed it.

"Sorry about that. You startled me."

"I didn't really think you'd actually be asleep." Meredith replied, amused. "Guess you needed this, huh?"

"You, uh, you look different." Bruce Wayne managed, somewhat sheepishly, although he couldn't quite smother his boyish grin.

"Yeah, well, I don't have coffee all over myself today." replied Meredith, the corner of her lip twitching.

"What's that?" Bruce suddenly asked. Meredith frowned, then realized her was referring to a small but vivid bruise located somewhere between her shoulder and collarbone. Meredith glanced at it before shrugging.

"Just a bruise." she muttered, almost to herself. If she noticed how unusually perceptive Bruce Wayne was for a man who had only just woken up, she quickly disregarded the thought.

"How'd you get it?" persisted Bruce, taking a sip of his coffee, although he kept his dark eyes trained on the dark shadow on her skin. Meredith suddenly felt conscious of the fact that it wasn't the only one.

"If you must know...I got into some trouble on the way home from work last night." she replied, with a shrug.

"You got mugged?" echoed Bruce, sounding somewhat incredulous. Meredith bit her lip, considering.

"Not exactly."

Bruce looked a mixture of confused and concerned, so Meredith, somewhat blithely, filled him in on her part-time job and how she had to catch the bus and fell asleep.

She neglected to mention the strange man in the diner- she hadn't yet told anybody about that, and she wasn't about to start with her boss. He didn't ask her for her life story, after all. If you were to ask Meredith about why she had neglected to discuss the man with the scars, she couldn't say for certain. Last night, she had been so rattled about nearly being beaten up that she had quite forgotten about it. And by the time she had gotten to work that morning, she had other things to think about then just one particularly odd customer. It wasn't as though he was the first strange person she had ever served at Joe's anyway- working the late shift often meant you attracted the weirdoes.

When Meredith had finished her brief tale, Bruce looked rather impressed.

"You actually saw the Batman?" he asked her.

"Pretty briefly." Meredith replied, feeling slightly more at ease with him then when she had first entered the room. "He was a bit preoccupied with the Three Musketeers to bother with me, though."

"They say he's a murderer, you know." Bruce told her, although his voice wasn't quite as serious as his words.

Meredith hesitated, wondering exactly whether she could be honest. She glanced at her boss, with slightly raised eyebrows.

"Honestly?"

Bruce smiled slightly, amused.

"Honestly."

"I think that's total bullshit." Meredith announced, bluntly.

Bruce laughed.

"Well, that _was_ honest." he said, still smiling that million-dollar smile, the one that made everybody forgive him for all his indiscretions. With a smile like that, you could get away with murder. Meredith automatically felt herself grin back slightly.

"I did warn you!" Meredith replied, relieved that he hadn't gotten offended.

"I guess you did." Bruce answered, running a hand through his hair. "What makes you think that, anyway? The police are pretty convinced."

Meredith shrugged, trying not to indulge in her old habit of picking at the skin around her nails.

"It just doesn't add up." she explained, rather haltingly. "I mean, why would he just suddenly kill a top Mob Boss when he's already dealt with a pretty hefty amount before without shooting their driver in the face? I don't even want to go into how ridiculous the Harvey Dent situation sounds."

She sighed, realizing how limp her argument sounded.

"All I can say is, Batman saved my ass last night. So I don't really think I have much right to be passing judgment, you know?"

She gave Bruce one of her rather wan smiles before heading for the door. She didn't notice the way his expression had shifted from wryly amused to strangely pensive.

"Enjoy your coffee, Mr. Wayne."

* * *

"Floyd! M'home!"

Meredith slammed the door behind her and slouched into her apartment, aiming for the small kitchen area. A slightly hoarse drawl of a voice responded with;

"Oh, hey..."

"Any calls for me?" she asked, directing this question to a sagging reddish-brown sofa that faced the opposite direction to the front door as she stuck her head inside the fridge.

"Uh, no..."

"Didn't think so." Meredith mumbled sourly to herself, slamming the fridge door and shooting a glare at Floyd (although he couldn't see it). "Did you eat _all_ the slices of ham again?"

"Yeah, I did."

Meredith merely grunted and began preparing herself one of her favorite things to eat when she couldn't be bothered to cook- instant ramen noodles. Her feet ached and she felt as though there was a weight pressing the back of her eyes. She padded over to the couch, hugging the warm cup of ramen to her chest.

"Move your feet, will you?" she said, and Floyd obliged. She sat down with a dramatic flump. "Work was total hell." She sighed, stirring the ramen unenthusiastically with her fork. She licked Spicy Chicken sauce off her finger. She looked at the TV. "What is this?" she asked Floyd.

"Um, _It happened one night_." Answered Floyd, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Meredith smiled slightly, bemused. For some reason, Floyd was in love with the black-and-white films of the thirties/fourties, which seemed very odd when Floyd had a sort of blonde-haired, blue-eyed surfer thing going on and his major hobby was getting stoned. Although it was slightly puzzling to her, Meredith found it oddly endearing.

A loud knocking on the door jerked her out of her reverie. She sighed loudly, and then looked at Floyd, who looked as though he hadn't even heard it. Even his facial expression was exactly the same. Groaning, Meredith hauled herself to her feet.

"I'll just go get that, shall I?" Meredith snapped in the direction of the saggy couch.

Floyd mumbled a decidedly half-hearted apology, not removing his eyes from the TV or even bothering to tap the ash glowing on the tip of his joint. Meredith rolled her eyes in a long-suffering way and padded open to the door, hoping that it wasn't that weird guy selling cleaning products again.

Instead, when Meredith pulled open the door, she saw no-one. Frowning in confusion, she was about to shut the door again, thinking it must have been kids or something, when she nudged something with her foot and looked down. A rose was lying on the floor, looking completely incongruous with its surroundings. Meredith would have been less surprised to see a dead bird lying at her feet. Feeling curious, she bent and picked it up, examining it.

"Who is it?" Floyd asked.

"Somebody left a rose outside." Meredith replied, automatically. Then something occurred to her.

"Floyd." Meredith called, not taking her eyes off the rose.

"...Yeah?" came Floyd's voice, sounding as dopily confused as usual.

"Did you see anybody here earlier who might have left this?"

"Nah, man...I was, like, cleaning."

Meredith rolled her eyes. Cleaning was Floyd's standard excuse for everything. Meredith stared at the rose in her hand, puzzled, but she couldn't stop a silly little smile flickering on the edges of her lips. Admittedly, it was _beautiful_- the brilliant crimson stood out against the backdrop of grey-brown of the wooden floor, which had long lost most of its natural color from rain.

Running her hands across the stem, Meredith felt something soft and realized there was a ribbon tied around the rose, just beneath the flower. It was a deep violet, the silk shining slightly in the hall light. For some reason, the color struck a chord in Meredith's mind- she knew that she had seen this color somewhere, associated it mentally with something important, but she was already confused enough without pondering that, too.

Lifting up the flower like it was a candle in the darkness, Meredith turned and went back inside, a silly little smile lighting her pale face as she stretched a hand out behind her and shut the door.

She had no idea, at the time, that she was being watched.


End file.
